This wasn’t supposed to turn into a rom-com.

But, hey, that’s the story of my life. One second, you’re young and hopeful, the next you’re tripping over air into fake dating your boss. Or dodging your childhood crush. Or marrying your single dad neighbor.

Ce la vie?

I’m sick of being the butt of my own life’s joke, but I’m on contract to finish one last book, and the only inspiration I have is my childhood rival. AKA my enemy. AKA…my editor.

The grump facade he shows to everyone else has always melted into irritating cinnamon roll for me. That’s two tropes right there. Are you counting? I know I am.

Ugh. Well. Let’s do this, I say, tropeily tropeing my way into trope town. This time, it ends with happily ever after, or I’m starting a cult.